<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Touch me, tease me, feel me up by Dandelions (maremanz)</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29687457">Touch me, tease me, feel me up</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/maremanz/pseuds/Dandelions'>Dandelions (maremanz)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Witcher One shots :D [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, Geralt trying to teach Jaskier self-defence, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has a Big Dick, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Husbands, Love Bites, M/M, Not Beta Read, Shameless Smut, Teasing, and Jaskier loves it, by playing a game</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 01:48:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,866</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29687457</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/maremanz/pseuds/Dandelions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Failed at swaying Geralt, he opted to lean against the nearby tree and watched—ogled—as the Witcher pulled of his shirt and tossed it to the saddlebags. Geralt’s skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat from the noonday sun and was slightly tan as if that sun had gently caressed her golden fingers across the expanse of the Witcher’s muscles and left an imprint of her love to be remembered forever and—</p><p>And Jaskier was getting sidetracked watching his husband stretch; the way Geralt brought his arms above his head, interlocking his fingers, the ring on his finger—the twin on his own—shining bright, nearly blinding him and then the muscles in his back shifted and he let out the most obscene moan when he popped a knot. </p><p>Fucking hell. </p><p>Jaskier bit back a groan and now he was hot for a whole different reason. Though, if played it well then maybe this self-defence lesson would end in his favour. </p><p>Thank Melitele he got to marry a god amongst men. </p><p>‘Done staring, bard?’ Shit. Jaskier looked up from where he was ‘staring’ and met Geralt’s eyes as he looked over his shoulder, a predatory glint in his eye which Jaskier very much enjoyed. Maybe this was it. His ticket out of training.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Witcher One shots :D [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2181654</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>91</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Touch me, tease me, feel me up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title from WayV's "Love Talk".<br/>Hope you enjoy!! 😄<br/>Also, my first smut so it's probably really choppy.<br/>Shall be a sequel 🤞🏼.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>So baby, come light me up</em>
  <em><br/>
And maybe I'll let you on it<br/>
A little bit dangerous,<br/>
But baby, that's how I want it<br/>
A little less conversation, and<br/>
A little more touch my body<br/>
'Cause I'm so into you</em>
</p><p> | Ariana Grande, “Into you” |</p><p>‘Geralt? My muse? Love of my life? Darling lover—’</p><p>‘You’re learning self-defence.’ Geralt cut him off with a growl that meant Jaskier wasn’t getting out of this. Geralt had been trying to get him to learn for decades—his first attempt was after the whole elves debacle, a memory Jaskier was very fond of—but now a little sweet talk, a blowjob or simply running away; The usual outcome for the latter being that Geralt would chase him like the White Wolf he was and Jaskier would run as fast as he could and it would all come to end with a good hard fuck on the forest floor which was enough to distract the Witcher and the lesson was put off.</p><p>Ostensibly, the accumulation of the last few weeks was evidence to the Witcher that the bard was in desperate need to learn self-defence.</p><p><strong>Exhibit one</strong>: It was yet another tavern tussle. A scuffle really. Geralt had gone to the lord’s castle to pick up his payment for the necrophage and Jaskier said it was a good of a time as any to begin playing and earn some extra coin. So, with a peck on the lips, they parted ways, each going to their respected destinations. After Jaskier finished his first round of songs he went to grab a drink and heard a man saying vile and cruel and untrue things about a white-haired Witcher and Witchers in general; saying something along the lines of that they were emotionless c--ts, no better than the monsters they kill. Never to let his lover’s or his brethren’s names be besmirched, Jaskier walked up to the posse of men. One thing led to another, and the whole tavern broke out into a drunken fistfight. Chairs were thrown and mugs shattered and when Geralt walked in he saw the bard throw a punch then fail to dodge one. Okay. Maybe it had been full-on brawl.</p><p>The Witcher walked up to Jaskier and grabbed his arm, hauling him behind him, shielding. One look at Geralt, the man scurried off and Jaskier snickered before cursing. Geralt whirled around, his amber eyes assessing the damage, a bruise on the cheek and a busted lip.</p><p>He got an earful that night.</p><p><strong>Exhibit two</strong>: bandits. Geralt was filling up their waterskins when he heard the bard shout and curse, spitting vitriol at someone. He stalked back to their camp and spotted four men tying Jaskier to a tree. Their items had been thrown out of the bags and strewn across the campsite and Jaskier’s lute was <em>too</em> close to the fire. If Jaskier saw it, then the bandits were dead men. One of the men, a short stocky-looking fellow, approached the bard with a knife and before things could escalate, the Witcher stepped in and that was that.</p><p>Disarmed and threatened, the bandits ran off with only the clothes on their backs.</p><p>He got an earful that night too.</p><p>‘Husband?’ It was a last-ditch effort and the glare that Geralt threw at him meant that his attempt had failed. Though, he did catch the Witcher smile which was a win. It was still new to them even after a month of being married. The love they felt for each other only intensified since the wedding—well, get together since there was only one sorceress, one princess, five Witchers and 6 horses, and of course the bridegrooms.</p><p>Failed at swaying Geralt, he opted to lean against the nearby tree and watched—ogled—as the Witcher pulled of his shirt and tossed it to the saddlebags. Geralt’s skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat from the noonday sun and was slightly tan as if that sun had gently caressed her golden fingers across the expanse of the Witcher’s muscles and left an imprint of her love to be remembered forever and—</p><p>And Jaskier was getting sidetracked watching his husband stretch; the way Geralt brought his arms above his head, interlocking his fingers, the ring on his finger—the twin on his own—shining bright, nearly blinding him and then the muscles in his back shifted and he let out the most obscene moan when he popped a knot.</p><p>
  <em>Fucking hell. </em>
</p><p>Jaskier bit back a groan and now he was hot for a whole different reason. Though, if played it well then maybe this self-defence lesson would end in his favour.</p><p>
  <em>Thank Melitele he got to marry a god amongst men. </em>
</p><p>‘Done staring, bard?’ <em>Shit</em>. Jaskier looked up from where he was ‘staring’ and met Geralt’s eyes as he looked over his shoulder, a predatory glint in his eye which Jaskier very much enjoyed. Maybe this was it. His ticket out of training.</p><p>He could feel his cheeks flush and he shifted on his feet as Geralt fully turned and approached him like a wolf stalking prey, cowering Jaskier against the tree. When Geralt reached him, he nuzzled the left side of his neck, running his nose along the length, scenting him, placing both hands on the bard’s hips and the Witcher let out a low hum, pressing him further against the tree and Jaskier’s eyes fell shut. He felt the Witcher’s hard cock against his own and ground down slightly, eliciting a small groan from his lover, his breath warm against his skin. The Witcher inhaled, and Jaskier felt the smile and he opened his mouth to cut him off.</p><p>‘The way you smell. Half-tempted to take you against this tree,’ Geralt rumbled, voice deep, more animal than human, canines sharp, nipping and sucking at the bard’s neck in an attempt to leave as many bruises as possible.</p><p>Jaskier swallowed, his throat dry, temporarily forgetting what he was going to say but he persevered, opening his mouth once again, hoping to gain the upper hand but no words came out. He raised his hands from where they were hanging idly by his side and wrapped his left arm around Geralt’s waist, dragging him even closer, scratching knowing full well that he couldn’t leave a shred of physical evidence but he sure as hell would try. He ran the hand up the Witcher’s spine, applying slight pressure, feeling the witcher tremble against him.</p><p>Hooking his leg round the Witcher’s thigh, he rubbed his <em>still</em> clothed cock against the Witcher’s, the friction caused by the fabric tantalising and he sped up. Using his right hand, he tugged on the leather band keeping the Witcher’s hair up, running his fingers through the silver strands of his husband’s hair, loving the silky feel before pulling on it and placing a kiss on the spot just under the Witcher’s ear, a sensitive place for him.</p><p>‘<em>Fuck, Jaskier</em>.’</p><p>‘Do it yourself, Witcher.’ The bard whispered, circling his tongue around the shell of Geralt’s ear.</p><p>Jaskier pulled back, resting his head against the bark, eyes hooded, mind foggy, and watched as the Witcher’s long, strong, battle-worn fingers scrambled for the first button of his powder blue doublet, the one that accentuated his cornflower eyes, making them sparkle impossibly bluer. Geralt continued to unbutton, purposefully slow.</p><p>Jaskier continued to gyrate against Geralt’s cock, tugging on the Witcher’s trousers.</p><p>If they continued this pace, they would both come in their trousers and that would be mortifying.</p><p>‘I like where this is going.’ Jaskier sighed as Geralt kissed and bit the exposed skin.</p><p>The hands on his doublet stopped and he frowned, desire clouding his brain and he tugged on the Witcher’s hair, prompting him to continue but the hands left his body and he let out a frustrated groan, cursing himself for opening his mouth just when he was about to get what he wanted.</p><p>He looked up at the Witcher; his pupils dilated and a thin ring of amber surrounding them, his breathing slightly off as if he were trying to regulate it.</p><p>‘Self-defence,’ Jaskier's eyes drifted down, watching those oh-so-delicious lips slick with spit, form those words.</p><p>‘What?’ He was slightly delirious, high of lust.</p><p>The Witcher took a step back then another, still watching the bard. ‘Self-defence, Jask.’</p><p>‘Noooo.’ Jaskier crooned. ‘Why get dirty fighting when we can get dirty fucking?’ But it seemed the moment had shattered, and Geralt went to his pack and Jaskier hoped it was to get the oil but instead the Witcher pulled out a dagger, <em>Jaskier’s dagger</em>, the one the Witcher had gifted him after a rather nasty bar fight that Jaskier swore till this day was not his fault.</p><p>‘Geralt, why do I even need to learn self-defence?’ Jaskier bemoaned, knowing full well that he sounded like a whiny child whose favourite toy had been snatched away. All was left was the stomping. ‘You’re always there anyway. Though I must admit, given your reputable character—no thanks to myself—the glower has become ineffective, really sexy however especially when—’</p><p>‘Jaskier?’</p><p>‘Yes, darling?’</p><p>‘Shut up.’ The Witcher growled, and Jaskier bit his lips, twitching in his trousers. Geralt turned, inhaling, smirking, and prowled towards the bard, holding out the dagger. Jaskier opened his mouth to make one final appeal. ‘Don’t bother, bard.’</p><p>‘Fine,’ Jaskier huffed, jabbing the dagger into the ground. He shrugged of his doublet, folded it, and walking over to put it into one of the saddlebags, picking up Geralt’s shirt and doing the same. He unlaced his chemise and went to pull it off when he heard a growl. He ignored it and put it away. He was distracted by Geralt and his glorious plain of muscles, it was only fair that he levels the playing field.</p><p>‘Okay!’ Jaskier clapped his hand and went to stand in front of the Witcher. ‘Might as well get this over with so we can get into the fun activities. Might even surprise you with my incredible fighting skills; I do tend to watch you a lot.’ He winked at the Witcher and Geralt let out a deep, gruff laugh, mirth dancing in those golden eyes. Jaskier grinned, his eyes softening. Geralt looked ethereal when he laughed.</p><p>Without a word from the witcher, Jaskier was whirled around, arms pulled behind his back, wrists trapped in one of Geralt’s hands, and pushed down on his knees.</p><p>‘One. Don’t get distracted, Lark.’ Geralt growled and Jaskier shivered at being manhandled. <em>Don’t get distracted</em>. No shit but Jaskier was a weak man and his lover rarely laughed like that. Plus, if Geralt’s intention was not to arouse him, moving him around like a ragdoll wouldn’t do the trick. His cock was hard and <em>throbbing</em>, pre-come leaking causing his smallclothes to stick to his skin. Jaskier shifted, trying to find a comfortable position.</p><p>Geralt helped him up. ‘Two. Be aware of your surroundings.’ The Witcher was a line of heat against his back and he could feel his hard length against his hip. He rubbed his ass against it and Geralt let him. Something clicked in his brain.</p><p>Geralt <em>let </em>him.</p><p>This was a game.</p><p>The Witcher had been feeling him up on purpose.</p><p>He was prey. <em>A lark.</em></p><p>Jaskier turned but the Witcher was gone.</p><p>‘Three. Access the situation.’ The voice came from his left. He strained his hearing, but he couldn’t pinpoint where Geralt was. He was moving, that was certain, circling the bard but Jaskier couldn’t see him; surprising since it was still light out. Jaskier let out a puff of air, calming his heart. He could do this.</p><p>Everything was green and murky but Geralt had white hair. Light bounced off it easily, making it glow. He looked around the clearing, attempting to spot an anomaly against the dark backdrop.</p><p><em>Follow your instincts. </em>A basic rule in music composition. Strumming his lute and putting together chords that soon became masterpieces all because it felt right, sounded right.</p><p>The hair on the back of his neck rose and twisted around and saw a whisper of movement from his peripheral view. He leaped out of the way just as Geralt dove from behind a tree. But he was too slow, and he was tackled to the ground, the wind knocked out of him, hips straddled, and arms pinned above him. He wiggled under the Witcher’s weight, struggling to free his arms from Geralt’s grasp but the Witcher pressed him deeper into the dirt, grip tightening.</p><p>‘Got you, songbird.’ Geralt snarled, running a hand down Jaskier’s side and he almost relented. Geralt leaned over him, white hair framing them both, his eyes molten gold.</p><p>
  <em>Don’t get distracted. Be aware of your surroundings. Access the situation. </em>
</p><p>No way on this godsforsaken world would he let Geralt win.</p><p>Jaskier shifted, willing himself to think of anything but the delightful presence of the Witcher above him.</p><p>
  <em>Valdo Marx. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Conniving little thief. Plagiarising his music and not getting his comeuppance. </em>
</p><p>Perfect.</p><p>His erection began to flag. And he continued to struggle.</p><p>Geralt noticed, grinding harder, galvanising Jaskier to do the same. Smirking, the Witcher leaned down brushing his lips across the bard’s collarbone, nipping at the skin, drawing blood, and licking it away, leaving prickles of pain in its wake. Jaskier let out a high-pitched moan, body tensing and slackening. He bucked his hips the same time Geralt ground down. Geralt’s lips trailed further south, sucking bruises along the way then his mouth closed around his nipple.</p><p>‘FUCK,’ he screeched, probably awakening the dead and every monster in the area. Except Geralt had thoroughly assessed the forest—sniffing and listening—deeming it safe to rest there. For this specific reason apparently. Not that they were resting.</p><p>Geralt pinched his other nipple causing it to stiffen, pulling on the little nub and rolling it between his fingers at the same time his tongue circled and slightly bit the other one, teeth scraping the tip.</p><p>‘G’ralt, Please.’ Jaskier sighed. He was going to come in his trousers and that would be it.</p><p>‘Give up, Lark?’ Geralt grinned against his nipple now the colour of red wine.</p><p>Through his lust-addled mind, he registered what Geralt said.</p><p>
  <em>Self-defence lesson. Arousal. Game. Valdo Marx. </em>
</p><p>Focus. He had to focus. <em>Don’t get distracted. </em></p><p>Valdo Marx and his serpentine smile. His taunting. Spreading rumours about him. Talking shit about Geralt when the wolf came to visit him in Oxenfurt.</p><p>Breathing still unsteady, he was able to pull an arm free from Geralt’s grip and he scrabbled to shove his hand into the white har and pull the Witcher into a kiss. The first kiss they shared since starting the game. Filthy with too much teeth and spit but they both moaned into it, tongues plunging into each other’s mouths, fighting for dominance.</p><p>With rapidly depleting strength, Jaskier freed his other arm, pushed against the Witcher, lips locked, and rolled them over and straddling his thighs. Geralt’s hands grabbed hips. A swipe of his tongue against Geralt’s teeth, he drew back, eyes raking over the Witcher’s face. Lips swollen red, blood pooling and instantly healing where the bard bit him, eyes blown wide and hooded and cheeks dusted with pink.</p><p>Geralt was the picture of sin.</p><p>Doubted he looked any different.</p><p>Jaskier’s eyes trailed down to his hirsute chest and watched his husband’s collarbone disappear and reappear, almost hypnotised. His eyes connected with Geralt’s. <em>Be aware of your surroundings. </em>He felt his hands trail up to his shoulder blades ready to flip them over again.</p><p>No. Nope. Nopety nope. Not going to happen.</p><p>
  <em>Access the situation. </em>
</p><p>Jaskier kissed him, pressing their bodies together, head to toe, a thin sheen of sweat clinging to them both, the sun still high in the sky. He refused to come but he would make Geralt though his dick was painfully hard. Resting a forearm near his head, traced the other down, feeling the scars and skin that made up the Witcher. Lifting slightly, he snaked a hand between their bodies and scratched a nipple, Geralt’s hips stuttering, continuing downwards. He palmed his erection and fumbled with the laces of the black trousers.</p><p>Geralt smiled against his lips. He thought the bard was giving in. Jaskier smiled too.</p><p>Geralt’s hands roamed the expansive of his back, before wrapping one around his waist and cupping the back of his neck pressing them closer.</p><p>Finally, he pulled the Witcher’s cock free, hot, heavy, and probably an angry purple in his hand. Swiping his thumb over the head, he drew his hand lower, fondling his balls before tugging. He continued touching, avoiding the Witcher’s very impressive length, curving against his stomach, leaking heavily. He ran blunt nails over his abdomen, caressing before enclosing his fingers around the base of his cock, not being able to fully wrap them around.</p><p>Geralt broke the kiss. ‘Jask,’</p><p>Jaskier stroked him hard and fast, lute-formed callouses dragging against the skin and Geralt came with a grunt, white streaks dirtying them both.</p><p>Geralt had a ridiculously fast refractory period so Jaskier jumped off, ignoring his own problem, took off into the forest.</p><p>The game was afoot.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Glad you've made it to the end.<br/>Here's a cookie: 🍪 (middle of a pandemic so virtual cookies will have to do the trick 😉)<br/>Please comment and criticise. Don't be afraid to point out mistakes.<br/>Kudos are much appreciated. </p><p>Thank you for reading! 🥰😘</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>